


Book V: The Hierophant

by DarkeShayde



Series: The Arcana: A Retelling [5]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Accidents, Announcements, Breaking and Entering, Chance Meetings, Developing Relationship, Distrust, F/M, Family Drama, First Meetings, Flirting, Gossip, Magic, Memory Loss, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 03:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20859131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeShayde/pseuds/DarkeShayde
Summary: When Shayde, Portia, and a few of the Palace servants head into the city to announce the Masquerade, Shayde runs into Julian again. Then, she must survive a meeting with the courtiers.





	Book V: The Hierophant

It’s the morning of the Masquerade announcement. I need to be back in the square for it at noon, but for now, I’m checking in on the shop. I’ll want supplies for my investigation. Reagents, herbs, one of Asra’s magic books … Hopping up the front steps to the shop, I press my palm to the door and release the sealing spell. I spot a small leather pouch resting on the stoop. Someone left this for me … picking at the knot, I open the pouch. Inside is a magic mixture. Myrrh is strongest, but there are other herbs. A mixture for protection. I cast a glance to either side of the street, but there’s no one nearby. I fetch my keys and turn the locks. Just as I lean on the door … It swings open, and I nearly collapse into the last person I expected to see. Doctor Devorak! The sight of him freezes me in my tracks, the pouch dropping from my nerveless fingers. I struggle to speak, but he beats me to it.

“… Well, hello there. Fancy seeing you here.” He says. “Ahem, maybe not so surprising. I, ah, I was in the neighborhood. And you look, er, splendid! Marvelous, I’ll stop wringing my hands.” Something tells me he’s not being completely honest. For a moment, I think about calling the guards, but I hesitate. This is the second time he’s been in my shop. Will the guards think I’ve been harboring him? Either way, I still have questions for him. I fix him with a narrow gaze.

“You’ve broken in twice now. What are you after?” I demand. He at least looks embarrassed, as he should.

“Why, I’m not after anything. What would I be-” He begins before suddenly pausing. “Oh, I hope you don’t think I’m a _thief_. I’m a lot of things, but not that. But … you wouldn’t take my word for it, would you?” I sense mischief brewing. To my surprise, the Doctor shucks off his overcoat, and starts to unbutton his waistcoat. He throws it open with a flutter, arms outstretched, palm-up in submission.

“Search me.” He challenges. “If you find anything of yours, I’ll show myself to the stocks. Go ahead. Search until you are satisfied.” He lowers his eye, presenting himself for inspection. The sight makes me grow hot at the ears, embarrassed, but I hate to back down from a challenge.

“I think I will.” I say. From the stunned look on his face, he didn’t expect me to take him up on the offer. He recovers quickly enough though.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” And doesn’t he just sound delighted by that? “Well then, don’t be shy. I promise I’ll be good.” Sure he will. I step closer, eyes roaming over his body, unsure where to begin. Tentatively, I reach up and run my hands over his shoulders, which I can barely reach considering the height difference. I’ve never intentionally been this close to him before. There’s barely a sliver between us.

“Not afraid to get up close and personal, are you-” He cuts himself off when I slide my hands under his shirt. His skin is soft, and surprisingly cool to the touch. When my fingers brush over his throat, I can feel his pulse jump. I run my hands lower on his abdomen. The moment my hands reach his waist, he suddenly twists away, slippery as an eel. I freeze momentarily in surprise.

“No no no, not there!” Julian gasps out. “Er, ahem, I … I’m afraid I’m terribly ticklish. Don’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret.” That is an interesting bit of information to have. But more importantly … I catch his arm. He almost overbalances, but catches himself at the last second. The shock on his face is absolutely priceless.

“Hold still.” I demand. “You said you would be good.” He bites his lip, flushing under my stare, and obediently stands straight, arms at his sides. I circle around behind him, and he twists around to watch me, not letting me out of his sight. His eye is bright with interest. My cheeks warm under his shameless stare.

“I had no idea you were so … hands-on.” Julian quips. “How daring of you. Aren’t you afraid someone will see?” I know how to get him to stop talking. It took no time at all to see how the Doctor’s mind works.

“Did I say you could move?” I ask. Answering his question can wait a moment or two. If I’ve judged right, he’ll blush, bite his lip, and obey.

“I, ah … no, you didn’t.” He replies.

“Then turn back around.” I order. He complies without the slightest hesitation. I can see the tips of his ears turn red. Interesting. A fine tremor goes through him when I slide my palms down his back. “Besides, shouldn’t _you_ be afraid of being seen?” I ask, in reference to what he had asked me a bit ago.

“Er, well, I suppose that’s true …” Julian mumbles. Finding it hard to talk, was he? Good. I run my hands over his hips, checking his pockets, and stop when I feel an unexpected hard edge.

“Ah, that, don’t worry about that.” Julian says … It’s a knife, hidden in his pocket. “But I _am_ happy to see you. I can show, if you like.” I roll my eyes. He’s incorrigible, but I can feel him nervously shifting weight. I walk back around to his front, trailing one hand over his hip. He sways slightly in my direction, but holds himself still with visible effort.

“Tell me what you were really looking for.” I say. It’s mostly a request, but phrased more like a demand. Those seem to work better on the dear Doctor.

“You’re very persistent, aren’t you? And, hmm. Thorough.” Julian’s throat bobs when he swallows, and he lets out a slow, shaky sigh. I wait, quietly.

“I … I was looking for answers.” He finally says. “But I didn’t find any. Not the ones I wanted.” He looks so dejected as he says that. Plus, that is the first thing he has said without a wink or a sneer.

“All right. I believe you.” I say.

“Huh? I, ah.” He stutters. “Wait. Really?” I nod, holding back a laugh at his surprise.

“Really.”

“That’s a terrible idea.” Julian declares flatly. “You shouldn’t take anyone at their word, least of all me. But, er, well. I do hope you’re satisfied. I would just hate to disappoint you.” And the bravado is back. He retrieves his overcoat with a showy flourish and slips it back on. I can’t help the way I watch the movement.

“Well, I’m sure you have things to do, so I’ll just be getting out of your way …” Julian announces. He takes an unnecessarily wide step, contorting his long form around me to pass. His broad grin takes only a minute to fade, before shock takes over his features. I look carefully over my shoulder. Portia. She must have come to find me, but she pays me no attention at all. All of her focus, the suspended disbelief in her wide eyes, is on the man beside me. When she speaks … The quiet word that escapes her sounds different, an unused voice from the depths of her heart.

“Ilya?” Portia stumbles, then runs to the steps. I back into the wall as she throws herself at the Doctor, who catches her easily. “Ilya?! Is it really you?” She asks. Her shaking hands come to either side of his face. His eye starts to shine, I notice in wonder.

“It’s me.” Julian says quietly. That’s the most tender sounding I’ve ever heard from him. This is an interesting turn of events. I’m scared to say anything and draw Portia’s attention.

“You- you-” Portia gasps. “You bastard! What are you doing here?! Out in the open? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” Her fingers curl, tugging at his ears and drawing a shameful wince.

“You’ve grown up strong, Pasha.” The Doctor says simply. “I’m … sorry I wasn’t there to see it.” That seems to really set Portia off.

“Ohh. I’ll show you sorry! You unbelievable … Shayde!” Finally spotted, I can only offer Portia a curious look. She releases Julian’s ears, tugging him off the stoop by the arm instead.

“I- I … I’ll catch up with you later!” Without further ado, Portia hauls the floundering Doctor away into an alley nearby, leaving me to ponder. Didn’t they seem like family? Similar features and coloring. Hmm … food for thought. Later. I have other matters at hand.

I enter my shop, and head straight for the back room. I linger over Asra’s possessions, his clothing and magical relics, comforted by his smokey scent. But I can’t stay long. I’m expected in the square. I collect the magical components I need, but the book is nowhere to be found. It’s one of Asra’s. Did he take it with him when he left? Before I know it, the sun is high in the sky. A distant clock tolls the hour, shocking me to my feet. The announcement! I can already hear a crowd roaring in the distance. Biting my lip in vexation, I abandon my search and close up the shop, heading for the city square.

The square is densely packed with people, smaller folks and late-comers circling the perimeter for a better view. I join them, sliding carefully amongst the buzzing crowd. A pleasant smell I can’t place is wafting from nearby.

“Ahem! Hear ye, hear ye! This is an announcement from your Countess Nadia! On the anniversary of the passing of your beloved Count Lucio, the Countess will open the Palace gates. That’s right, folks! All are invited not to mourn, but to celebrate the spirit of the dearly departed Count!” Portia says. A ripple of loud excitement passes through the crowd. At its edge, I follow the familiar scent. Myrrh. The leather pouch, dropped on my shop’s doorstep comes to mind. And then I come upon a figure, hulking in size. Their eyes are shrouded, under a hood and heavy brow. Though the excitement in the square is growing, the figure looks more like a harbinger of despair.

“It’ll be a Masquerade like no other before!” Portia’s voice carries over the crowd. “Spread the word, tell your friends! You won’t wanna miss this!” As the crowd erupts in chatter, the massive stranger moves down a side street, escaping with the scent of myrrh. The stranger’s lumbering pace is easy to match. I catch up halfway down the street.

“Hey, where are you going?” I call. They turn slowly as if they dread the sight of me. A voice like thunder rumbles from under the robes and furs.

“Blindly to the slaughter.” They say. “Just like all the rest of you.” Well, that isn’t a very helpful or enlightening answer. What is it with this city and people talking in riddles?

“What do you mean by that?” I ask. “Please … speak plainly.”

“It doesn’t matter what I say.” The stranger shrugs. “My words won’t last. They never do.” The stranger shuffles away, chains rattling. My thoughts race. If they left the protection spell at the shop … Did Asra send them? I don’t get the chance to ask. With a suffering look, the stranger disappears into the misty, afternoon shadows of the alley. I head back toward the servants’ wagon, where Portia is tossing flower petals and rice onto the dancing city folk.

“Shayde, there you are!” She says when she sees me. “Would you look at this crowd? No incidents back at the shop, I hope? Nothing out of the ordinary?” Her smile has a shade of desperation as she bats her eyes pleadingly. I open my mouth to answer, but we’re jostled as the wagon lurches to life. Wild laughter follows us down the streets, ringing with news of the Masquerade. But my mind is lost elsewhere.

“Shayde?” Portia questions. It takes me a moment to register her voice. “You’re going to be meeting with the courtiers when we reach the Palace. Wanna know who they are first?”

“Oh! Yes, that would be … really helpful.” I say gratefully.

“Well, there’s Procurator Volta, Praetor Vlastomil, Pontifex Vulgora, Quaestor Valdemar, and Consul Valerius.” Portia ticks off their names rapidly on her fingers. I must look as hopelessly lost as I feel, because she gives my shoulder a reassuring pat. “Really, Valerius is the most important. Milady minds him more than the rest. The others are a bit eccentric, but I’m sure they’ll be kind to you.” Implying that Valerius won’t? I’ll keep that in mind.

When we return to the Palace, Portia escorts me to a wing that smells strongly of a half a dozen perfumes. I know we’ve reached the parlor door by the music and cackling laughter inside.

“Don’t worry, Shayde. These people can’t wait to meet you.” Portia’s words ground me. People … people, that’s all they are. The room is hazy, swimming with elegant plumes of smoke. Softly lit figures lay about on pillowy couches. The Countess sits behind a gleaming pipe organ, paying no mind to the idle chit-chat around her. But she looks up when I enter, her elegant fingers striking a victorious chord.

“Welcome, Shayde.” Nadia greets me. She turns the page of her music, nodding to me with an encouraging smile. “Portia, please introduce our honored guest.”

“Announcing Shayde, friend of the Palace and apprentice to Asra the magician.” Portia declares. I try to put faces to the list of names as the courtiers rise from their comfortable seats.

“You’re Shayde? Oh, oh, you’re so cute!” Procurator Volta gushes. She would almost look sweet in her nun-like garb, if not for the one eye that is totally white and … is that a fang sticking up from her bottom row of teeth? Her clear eye is a golden brown and the hair sticking out from under her hat is reddish brown. Something is wrong here. I can feel it right away.

”What a delightful surprise, we were all just talking about you!” Praetor Vlastomil declares nervously. He is practically skeletal and as pale as a corpse. The rather tall man has no color to him at all. His hair and even his eyes are a pale grey. Their eyes … all of them have strange eyes. The pupil slitted like a cats, or a lizard’s.

“Sit! No, not with them, with ME, Shayde!” Pontifex Vulgora all but demands. They look the strangest out of the bunch, with their very yellow eyes and horned headdress. They are rather short but stocky and wear metal gauntlets of gold that scream war. The welcoming gestures take me by surprise, I hadn’t expected such enthusiasm, false as it seems. Eager, manicured hands draw me down onto the couches and into the folds of conversation. The Countess watches me from where she plays the pipe organ, drawing contemplative tones.

“Tell me, Shayde, how was the announcement received?” Nadia asks. I don’t get an opportunity to respond. The courtiers all begin to add their thoughts on the matter.

“One can only imagine! Even we, the favorites of the Countess, had no idea!” Vlastomil says. There is a subtle edge to that remark, aimed at me, I’m fairly sure.

“Such a beautiful surprise from our dearest Countess! A Masqurade!” Volta cries, her hands clasped to her chest in a very dramatic pose that is far more over the top than anything even Julian has done to date.

“HAH! And we don’t even have to do the work!” Vulgora says. How does Nadia stand this ceaseless gushing and fawning? A few minutes of it and I am ready to tell them all to shut up!

“How lucky Shayde would have to be, to get a word in with you all. Goodness.” Nadia says. They have an answer ready for that as well, it seems.

“Oh my worm—ahem, I mean word—how lucky she already is!” Vlastomil says. “To be taken in by the Countess, an unknown apprentice!” Nadia arches an eyebrow at Vlastomil, but says nothing. I may as well not be here, for as much as I’ve said so far.

“Risky, risky. So very unlike our most thoughtful and meticulous Countess.” Quaestor Valdemar says. I flinch. Valdemar’s voice is soft and chilly, with none of the enthusiasm of the others. They look slightly more normal than Vulgora, but they have a green tint to their skin that makes them look sick and red eyes that have none of the warmth Nadia’s do. Dressed totally in white, they also have what looks to be horns on their head. That’s when I notice that all of the courtiers have a red beetle broach … all but one that is.

“Perhaps the Countess might inform her _adoring_ court …” Another voice begins. “… how exactly she found herself at the witch’s door that night.” A prim figure in steely grey robes rounds the couch, looking down his nose at me. Consul Valerius. He is the most normal looking of the courtiers, though that isn’t saying much. His long black ombré hair is braided and drapes across his shoulders. His eyes are pale and thankfully with normal pupils. He carries an air of snobbish superiority. Instead of a red beetle, he bears a golden ram’s head broach. Portia made special mention of him. Apparently, he has made trying the Countess’ patience into an art. He spreads his arms, turning to address the entire room.

“Or perhaps the witch might tell us herself.” He says. For the first time since I walked in, they are all silent. I don’t care for Valerius’ attitude. He is trouble and not the fun kind. More like the ‘you got in my way and now I’m going to kill you and your family’ kind. I feel as if this is some kind of favorites contest between me and the courtiers.

“Perhaps I might.” I reply, sounding more confident and aloof than I normally would. The Countess’ idle attention returns to the pipe organ as the courtiers swoop down upon me. They seem ravenous for details of our fateful meeting the other night.

“Go on, tell us everything!” Vulgora says urgently.

“We’ve heard only the _gossippe_.” Vlastomil tells me. “Did the Countess truly come to you in the dead of night, stumbling barefoot, tearing through the streets?” What nonsense is this? Gossip, indeed. Eager eyes watch my every move.

“No, she just … knocked on the door.” I say in confusion. I’ve always disliked rumors and those that live for them. The court is not a group of individuals I can see myself spending a lot of time with if this is how they view their leader.

“Please, my poor Countess, I must know if she was weeping!” Volta cries dramatically. What fanciful tales they must have heard … or made up themselves.

“She wasn’t.” I begin. “But the hour was late, and the Countess was most insistent …” My new companions gather closer to me as I spin the tale. Enraptured, they cling to my every word, now that I finally get the chance to speak. When my recollection is complete, the Countess ends her practice with an impressive trill.

“If you all wanted so badly to know how that night transpired, you might have simply asked.” Nadia says. “My headaches had grown worse, and I was having some trouble sleeping-”

“As you have been for some time, Countess!” Volta interjects, ever the one for dramatics, it seems.

“Yes, Procurator.” Nadia agrees, but I can see she is annoyed at being interrupted. “On that night I woke haunted by the spectre of a dream, no escape for my mind. Indeed, I was … seeking someone, anyone who may be of help to me.” The Countess goes on. “It was I who was lucky, to come across the one I needed so soon. A benevolent universe brought us together, did it not, Shayde?” Her glimmering red gaze falls fondly on me, and the courtiers shift, studying me with new intensity. I start to sweat a little. The moment is broken by an airy sigh as the Consul draped in grey peers at me through his wineglass.

“Countess, it pains us to hear that you felt you must look elsewhere for a sympathetic ear.” Valerius says. The other courtiers seem to be in agreement, faces drawn in a play at sympathy. Surely Nadia can see through this act? “Should you deem us worthy of your trust, we are as open books to you!” Valerius throws his arms wide with a flourish … knocking a pitcher of fragrant wine over the front of my garments. A collective gasp sweeps through the room as the livid liquid seeps into my skin and clothes. The Countess rises from the organ, her expression murderous.

“How clumsy of me.” Valerius says, carelessly. “Surely you know some hocus or pocus to remedy this dilemma?” Before I can respond to that challenge that magic doesn’t work like that, Nadia speaks over me.

“Enough, Valerius. You have exhausted my patience for tonight. All of you, out.” Tiptoeing around my splattered form, the courtiers file sheepishly out the door. I remain with the Countess, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder.

“I am sorry, Shayde.” Nadia says. “We must rid you of these ruined clothes, of course … tsk, such pettiness. But I have taken enough liberties with your wardrobe. So, please, do not hesitate. Tell me what you would like. And Shayde … spare no expense.” Nadia implores. Portia stands at the ready as the Countess folds her hands, awaiting my request. It seems like Nadia wants me to ask for riches. Does she … like showering people in gifts? I, however, dislike asking for anything, even the things I need.

“No, thank you. I don’t need anything special.” I reply.

“Ah, I thought you would say that.” Portia says.

“Ah, as humble as ever. Very well. Your comfort here is of great importance to me.” Nadia says. “Portia will escort you to your chambers. You will be bathed, and your own garments returned. Though, Shayde … You are my guest of honor. You could be more selfish, if you like.” The cooing tones of the organ echo down the hall as Portia leads me back to the guest wing.

When I’ve bathed and returned to my room, a parcel is waiting for me by the window. There is a tightly spiraled note on top addressed to me, from the Countess. _A gift for my dear guest, this emerald which seemed to call your name. Wear it in good health. And Shayde, you may call me Nadia._ The chain slips through my fingers as I hold the jewel, and in a gradual wave, I start to recognize its energy. Am I mistaken? No … I know the feeling too well. It is Asra’s magic, radiating from the gem in gentle, soothing ripples. I was able to track Julian earlier. Could I somehow … find Asra with this? Just the thought makes my heart swell with an almost painful hope.

I lie in wait until the halls are quiet … midnight, perhaps, before I steal out of my room. With the emerald hanging from my neck, I’m enveloped in a dreamy calm. The thought of hearing Asra’s voice again … Something familiar in all the newness. I wander through the empty halls and out onto the veranda. Below I see the gardens, shady and lush. From up high, I can see that the middle forms a maze of greenery. Silently, I descend to the garden path, shrouded in a warm breeze. The musical sound of falling water grows louder and louder. I reach a fountain. Around it is a wide gazing pool, and overhead is a rich old willow tree. Hanging from the tree …

“Faust!” She flicks her tongue, hovering over the gazing pool. “Didn’t you go with Asra? What are you doing here?” Her weight drops eagerly onto my shoulders, sleek body giving me a friendly squeeze. Was she waiting for me? Did she know I was looking for Asra? I take a seat on the edge of the pool, and lean over to peer into the reflective water below. Faust takes immediate interest in the emerald, tongue flicking after it as I lift the pendant from my neck. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, holding the jewel over the water … And drop it. Light catches every glittering, green face as it sinks to the bottom of the pool. The water starts to change, colors blooming, shapes unfolding. The longer I concentrate on the shapes in the water, the more they change. Before I know it, my reflection is fading away, and in its place … I see Asra, drawing water to his face and drinking deeply. Each drop that trickles from his hands sends ripples through his image as it strikes the surface. I’m so shocked to see him that I can only gape silently, afraid that any sound will break the spell. Then he shakes out his hair, blinks the water from his eyes, and looks straight at me.

“Shayde? Can you hear me?” He asks. I nod, barely able to believe it myself. If this is no spell of his, then how did I …? Asra looks as surprised as I am. He leans forward, close enough that I can see droplets in his eyelashes.

“Incredible.” He laughs. I see now that he is sitting cross-legged, probably beside a pond. His mount, the strange beast from before, is lying beside him, resting its weighty head on his knee. “Ah, and Faust is with you. Looks like she found you all right. I wasn’t all that sure about leaving her. But after that reading you gave me … I thought I’d trust my intuition.” Tall palms sway behind him against a glittering sea of stars. His hair catches starlight in every whorl. Faust dips her tail into the water, sending tiny ripples across the image.

“Faust, you’re looking lively. Being around Shayde does that to you, doesn’t it?” Asra says.

“I’m glad she’s here.” I say. Faust looks very proud of herself. Now that I’m over the shock of finding her, I’m beyond relieved to have her near. In the reflection, Asra looks pretty pleased with himself too.

“And I’m glad you’re here, Asra.” His face flushes, and the beast on his knee gives a rumbling snort.

“I see a willow tree behind you … are you at the Palace?” Asra asks. I nod, and launch into telling him everything that’s happened since we parted. The more I speak, the more his eyes glimmer with keen interest.

“Unbelievable. The day that I leave was the day you needed me the most. And even then, you didn’t really need me at all. I’m glad Faust is with you, at least. If anything happens to either of you, I’ll know. I can live with that.

“You look tired.” I say. Asra’s expression is sleepy, but content. His secret escapades must have been fulfilling, today.

“I don’t feel tired. I was just about to get into the water, but you beat me to it.” I roll my eyes, while Faust slides across my lap to take sniffing flicks at the water.

“Faust is opening up to you.” Asra observes. “It may be about time for me to do the same.” I nearly choke at that. My face must be a sight, because it makes him laugh, high and unrestrained. I don’t really believe he means it. He must see my mistrust.

“No, really. It’s true.” Asra assures me. “I want to start being more honest with you.” _More_ honest? Not even completely, just more. Classic Asra. Something always has to be mysterious with him.

“What’s on your mind? Ask whatever you like.” Asra goes on. “All that _I_ ask … is that you start being more honest with me, too.” I narrow my eyes at that. When have I ever not been honest? His gentle gaze washes over me, bringing me a much needed calm. But I do have a few burning questions.

“Who is Nadia to you?” I ask first. I’ve noticed something in the way the Countess speaks of Asra. Like they’d known each other. And then there is the emerald that holds his magic when none of his personal effects at the shop do.

“Well … She was a dear friend, once. We could talk about anything, everything, all night long. We trusted each other. For a time … But we’re strangers now.” How could that be? Strangers?

“Why? Did something happen?” I ask.

“Mhm. Precious friends, precious experiences … you’d be amazed what people can forget.” He musses. “When they don’t want to remember …” With a deep sigh and a shake of his head, Asra clears the heavy mood and then he smiles at me.

“Is there, perhaps, something else on your mind?” Asra asks. His twinkling eyes search mine with wordless depth. However, I can feel myself drifting off. The long day is catching up with me and my eyes are demanding rest.

“It’s getting late.” I say, instead of answering his question.

“Is it?” Asra asks. “Time is strange, here. Go rest, Shayde. I’ll see you again soon. I know you’ll find me.” I see Asra reaching toward me, toward the water. His touch shatters the image, and he’s gone. Faust looks disappointed, curled on the edge of the pool, as I rise to my feet.

“Come, Faust. I know.” I say to the snake. “He says we’ll see him again soon.” She gives the pool a longing look. Reluctantly, she slides up my arm to rest against me. Her presence somewhat soothes the strange ache in my chest … With a shake of my head, I gather the serpent into my arms and head back inside.


End file.
